


Calling in Favors

by VictrolaDoll



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: Dark Past, Minor Violence, Other, made-up canon, revealed past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-03 11:17:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4099060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictrolaDoll/pseuds/VictrolaDoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a short that has to do with an RP I did with my friend's OC, Roxxan.</p><p>A little girl has gone missing and Graverobber's only chance at finding her may very well rest in the hands of the gangsters of Lower Sanitarium. It's time to call in some favors, but will arms dealer Oz give in to Graverobber's request, or will he simply needle the dealer with recollections of the past?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calling in Favors

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS NOT A SHIPPY PIECE and there is some violence. So if you're looking for something mushy and cute, _don't look here_.
> 
> This is a back dated piece and can originally be found on my Graverobber RP blog, [[here]](http://doitfortheglow.tumblr.com/post/95322986919/drabble-calling-in-favors)
> 
> OCs present and mentioned:  
>  **Roxxan Smith** \- General street rat. She's mostly a thief and sometimes a bartender. Whatever past she has with Amber Sweet is not a pleasant one as both women despise each other.  
>  **Raven Smith** \- Roxxan's young daughter whose father wouldn't even acknowledge her until about a year ago.  
>  **Osmond "Oz" Chaucer** \- Leader of a weapons trafficking ring run out of Lower Sanitarium. He knew Graverobber before he had the moniker, but still can't figure out Graverobber's original legal name.  
>  **Evan Autoly** \- General wise guy and messenger for Oz.  
>  **"Johnny"** \- The somewhat mysterious leader of the GeneCo Resistance Front and owner of The Revolutionary Bar, Johnny tells no one his real name or that he and Graverobber have a history together as kids.  
>  **The Jack (AKA: Jackal)** \- Real name Kim Caro, Jackal runs a mostly female street gang marked by their distinctive scars and each member having a single bio-mechanical eye.
> 
> Comments are always welcome. Let me know what you think.

The grey, stone office building was one of several owned by Oz. He had many businesses and usually he wasn’t at any of them, but today Graverobber had been lucky enough to get wind of the arms dealer going visiting. It was much closer than the man’s house, which, for the sake of expediency, was good for Graverobber. He slipped through the doors and banged roughly on the security counter, “I need to see Oz.”

“No can do, my man.” The olive skinned delivery boy who sat there had his feet up on the desk, navy blue sneakers matching in colour with his pants, shirt, and hair, “Boss is busy.”

Graverobber growled and knocked Evan’s feet aside, “It’s an emergency, and that bastard owes me one.”

Hands gripped the dealer’s shoulders and pulled him away from the skinny Italian, “That’s enough. No emergency can’t stand to wait a sec.”

“Get off of me!” The street rat didn’t take the time to recognize if he knew the voice or not. He probably did, which is why there wasn’t a gun to his head like there might have been if they didn’t already know each other. Too bad, because he wasn’t playing games today.

The man grunted as Graverobber’s favorite butterfly knife sunk into his leg. An elbow to the face, and Graverobber was back in front of Evan, grabbing the man’s head and slamming it to the desk, “Call me in. Now!”

“Alright! Alright!” Evan’s fingers jittered over the intercom buttons, probably beeping out a distress signal, “B-boss, Gravesman is here to see you and he a-ain’t happy!” The door buzzed and Graverobber released Evan, making his way inside the office proper.

This time there were guns. A lot of them. Pointing specifically in his direction. He stripped his coat and satchel, dropping them to the floor, along with his gun and a boot knife. 

He’d never been in these offices before, and while normally he would take a moment to look around and see what was up, he didn’t really bother this time. He was in a hurry, and didn’t really care how much money was being counted, or receipts exchanged, or computers flickering with gambling scores… Shit. Focus.

A big man, who had a particular dislike of him anyway, patted down the annoyed street dealer and pushed him forward. Another burly man joined them on either side. With all due pomp and circumstance, they roughly escorted him to a glass-encased office and took him in.

“Boss, he’s here.” No, shit! He probably thought it was the fucking pizza guy.

The man who stood in front of the desk was lanky, with greased back hair, and pale skin. Graverobber would have joked that Oz was albino if he didn’t already know for a fact that the blonde coif was a dye job. Osmond Chaucer was a natural ginger. “Give us some privacy, boys.” Long fingers flicked out in a gesture which dismissed his men or any implications that he might be in danger alone with the street rat. Which was true. He could probably slice Graverobber right open with his high, jutting cheekbones.

“Oz-”

The boss held up a hand to silence his guest and pressed a remote button, dropping the curtains so that nobody on the counting floor could see inside, “You gave my errand boy quite a bruise, and knocked out Sal. I thought you were friends. You must truly be desperate this time… Alexander was it?”

“Not now.” Oz’s insistence at trying to guess Graverobber’s real name was amusing, and annoying, and very much off point at the moment, “I’m calling in a favor, and I need it double time.”

Oz looked unimpressed, and sat back against the front of his desk, “I’m busy, Charlie. Come and turn it in later.”

A snarl emanated from Graverobber’s throat, “This is serious, There’s a kid missing!”

“Children go missing everyday, Bartholomew.”

“She’s small, four years old, black hair, Roxxan’s kid, answer’s to Raven.”

That gave Oz pause, “I did hear about the explosion…”

“The kid wasn’t found. Nobody has eyes on her, and Sweet’s lurking around like a vulture.” This was taking too long. He still had to get to Jackal and ask for her help. If Raven really was out on the streets, she was prey to whoever found her first.

“You know I don’t like putting a rush on anything.” Oz had returned to sounding completely relaxed about the entire thing.

“She’s just a kid, Oz!”

“We were all ‘just kids’." The blonde man mused with a slight smirk, "Do you remember when you were 'just a kid’? On the street corner? With that brand on your chest-” He traced a squiggle on his own chest with a finger.

“Oz…”

“Selling yourself so that you could keep that pimp happy?”

“Oz…”

“You know… I think you owe me and mine so many favors, I don’t owe you anyth-”

Graverobber snapped. He grabbed the arms dealer by the collar and pushed the arse-hole down on the desk. There was a knife at his gut in an instant, but he wasn’t paying attention, “I don’t owe you jack shit. Now you fucking listen up. The wedding. The spring load shipment in August. The time you got taken by a pair of Jack’s. You still owe me for those, and I will take them out of you right now, or you can get your men out there and  _find my fucking kid!_ ”

“Let me up.” The request was quiet, but the knife was jabbing a little harder into Graverobber’s stomach, blood starting to seep into the fabric of his ratty shirt.

“Which is it, Chaucey?”

“Graverobb-”

“Osmond.” He bit the name out with a dangerous snarl.

“Very well. I’ll put people out to find the girl. What do you want me to say?”

“Tell them I’m getting paid to look.” The Zydrate dealer stood back, off of the gang head, and smoothed back a couple of his blue dreadlocks, “Going to the Jack, next. Not her territory, but she looks out for women. And I got Johnny’s people on the look out. No violent strikes until we know she’s not there.”

“You honestly think Sweet has her?” Oz was wiping his knife on a handkerchief handily produced from his pocket.

“Don’t know.”

“I’ll keep an ear out.”

“Thanks.”

The blade snicked back into it’s home under the sleeves of Oz’s loose grey T-shirt, “Oh and Graverobber?”

“What?” Here it came…

The fist caught him directly in the gut, forcing him to gag and double over.

“Don’t threaten me again.” Oz pressed the remote to lift the curtains, and gestured his thugs in to take Graverobber away and dump him on his arse outside.


End file.
